“How do they know it? It’s very simple. The prime mover in the attempted murder, or one of his accomplices, was assuredly among the witnesses this afternoon. Is it the amiable Madame Bourrat? Is it that doltish Jules, who looks an absolute fool, but may be masking his game? Suppose the serious Barbey pops up? Or the elegant Nanteuil? But I do not think so – they are rather victims than attackers – everything leads me to that opinion. But – all this does not tell me whether the place has already been visited or not.” Fandor unlocked the drawer, searched for the piece of soap under the pile of Elizabeth’s linen, and had the extreme satisfaction of finding the evidence had not been moved.“Good! I am here first! Ah, we shall see our men presently! Which ones, and how many?”

Fandor seated himself and let his imagination work.

He tried to picture the faces of the mysterious individuals he was determined to track down – but, so far, in vain!... Then with strange, uncanny per sistence, one face rose again and again before his mental vision, clear, vital – the face of the enigmatic Thomery, with his silver white hair, his red face, his light blue eyes, that Yankee head of his, well set on his robust torso.

“Thomery!” hissed Fandor under his breath. “The fact is, everything leads me to think... but let’s not anticipate! Concealment is the next item on the agenda!” Fandor realised that to hide under the bed was impossible: he would be discovered immediately.

The screen was no better!... There was Elizabeth’s trunk!... Why, it was a kind of monument in wickerwork!

The very thing! It was quite big enough to hold him – it was one of those enormous trunks beloved of women!... To hide in it would be an excellent trick – a real joke! Let me burrow in there, and see the amazement of these estimable characters when they open it to rummage about among Elizabeth’s belongings and find themselves face to face with me! They shall see beside my sympathetic countenance the stern mouth of my loaded revolver!... Let us see whether it is a possible hiding place!

Fandor raised the cover and lifted out a top compartment, in which were scattered, among objects of feminine apparel, papers, books, and all sorts of things which had evidently belonged to the unfortunate painter.

The distracted Elizabeth, in the hurry of departure from rue Norvins, must have thrust them in pell-mell. The lower division of the trunk was empty

“Another bit of luck!” thought Fandor. “Now to sample my little hide-away!”

Fandor found he could got into a fairly comfortable position. Then he calculated, that with the compartment back in its place and the cover open, all he had to do to close it was to shake the trunk transversely. He could certainly remain inside for several hours without intolerable discomfort.

Raising the cover, Fandor slipped out.